


The Lights, They Glow Like I've just Lost the World War

by Anikma



Category: Genghis Khan - Miike Snow (Music Video), LazyTown
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, but there's nothing graphic, i mean if you're familiar with the music video then you basically know what happens, i mean there's some mention of some shady agency going ons, idk what to tag this as?, if you're here for some hardcore sportarobbie you won't find it tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anikma/pseuds/Anikma
Summary: Agent Sportacus wakes up in Doctor Rotten's lair, a death ray aimed for him. He doesn't expect to be left lying there until morning, is still surprised when the villain returns in the middle of the night, death ray at the ready.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this had to happen eventually and it'll probably happen again but this is my take on a Genghis Khan/Sportarobbie cross over. I realized two thirds of the way through that i could have called him Agent 10 but i couldn't bring myself to change it. 
> 
> Title is from the song btw  
> In this au/crossover Robbie isn't married w/ kids like the villain is in the music video. Doctor Rotten is kind of a lame name but i'm kind of lame too. I tried to do a good mix of lazytown and the music video which is why stuff like the wife and kids are missing. I dunno how well i managed it but whatever. Also i keep imagining Robbie in the same outfit as in the music video, just purple.

There was something at his lips, cool and sweet, and a hand urged him to bite, chew, and swallow before he returned to consciousness. Blinking against the lights surrounding him, he tried to move only to find himself restrained. 

“Good,” a man coos at him, “it would be _such a shame_ if you were unconscious for your last moments on Earth.” 

It came back to him slowly, mind still churning as he tried to regain focus from his sugar meltdown. Caught so easily, he had been too trusting and was brought down by a piece of sugar fruit, sometimes it amazed even him that he was a secret agent. An ominous chuckle brought him back to the man looming above him. Of course Doctor Rotten would have known about his unfortunate weakness. The villain was known as one of the most successful agent killers out there. He was strange as far as villains went, he seemed to never be preoccupied with world domination or wealth but hs vendetta against the agency that Sportacus was a member of was legendary. 

So legendary that it was well known that being sent into his lair was an execution order. Being handed those orders had stung. Sportacus knew what awaited him and had been ready. He hadn’t meant to fall into the trap quite as easily as he had though. Part of him may have hoped that he _could_ have succeeded, brought back the plans for Rotten’s newest invention and had the smug satisfaction of seeing the looks on his higher ups faces. He would have enjoyed every second of it before they had someone in the agency kill him. 

“You know, Agent Sporta _flop_ , I really must wonder what earned you this place on my table. They even wrapped you up so nicely for execution; the tux suits you and that bow tie?” The man grabbed his face as he chuckled at his own pun, forcing him to look up at the villain, “The blue brings out your eyes.” 

He released Sportacus roughly, moving to fiddle with some knobs on a nearby machine. The resulting electrical hum coming from the large piece of machinery aimed directly at him was unnerving to say the least. His hair stood on end as the doctor continued his monologue. 

“Maybe it was your failed attempt to get information out of me in Wealthycity before flipping away dramatically? Or have you finally outlived your usefulness as the agency’s Don Juan?” 

The agent was glad that the villain couldn’t have known how close that hit to home, he was well aware of his status in the agency. He was sent almost exclusively on intelligence missions for a reason. Find the target, dazzle them with his smile, seduce them with softly spoken words, and once they were distracted by muscles and his looks and he had the information he needed he was gone. He was aware of the general assumption that he stuck around long enough to enjoy the results of his skills but employing them made him feel dirty enough. Sportacus didn’t enjoy what he did, making people feel special, feel desired and then running out of their lives. 

The villain had returned to loom over him, golden nosepiece gleaming in the light of the machinery surrounding them. The excitement of having the flippy-floppy agent who nearly fooled him strapped to the table was apparent in his movements. He was very nearly dancing as he retrieved the remote control from an assistant. Sportacus struggled against the restraints despite everything, even if he knew this was an execution coming in he couldn’t help his instincts screaming at him with death looming above. 

Doctor Rotten looked nearly giddy at the anticipation but as he brought the remote up, finger poised like a god of death, his face fell. Before anyone had time to notice there was the ringing of the alarm, signaling the end of that day’s work. Machines quieted down, the glow of their lights fading as the lair moved swiftly into its nightly hibernation. The villain let disgust show on his face, hoping it would mask any other emotions threatening to make an appearance. He walked off in a huff, leaving a confused secret agent behind. 

In truth the shifts were for his employees, overworking them wouldn’t do him any good and he wouldn’t admit it but he did sort of care about them in his own way. They knew him to be eccentric; often staying late into the night to work on whatever new machine his brain was set on. Sometimes he was incredibly lazy, not moving for days. Other times they wouldn’t see him eat anything not made almost entirely of sugar for a week. They accepted his quirks and were loyal to him because he treated them well, much better than any other villain. His employees knew they were free to quit at any point, no worries of shadowy figures tailing them in their civilian lives. Should the agency or anyone else ever threaten them for their service the doctor was more than ready to deal with them, no questions asked. 

It was far more unusual to see the man leaving at the bell with that shift of employees, especially with a secret agent strapped down and waiting for his death. The new shift of guards would keep their thoughts to themselves though. The doctor’s business with this agent he had been watching for months was his own. 

*** 

Sportacus was less content to accept the situation without question. He wasn’t aware of any villain that ran their operation nine to five, much less one that would leave an agent set for death strapped to a table for the night. Maybe it was a new style of torture, leave him to think about his actions until he would change his ways. The idea was laughable, especially for one of the most dangerous agent killers there was. It was all very strange, but so was the man in charge. His fluid movements, set to a score no one else could hear, and his apparent distaste for the sort of things that most villains lived for, had gotten into the business for. 

He had found the man extraordinary in Wealthycity as well, watching him from across the spacious dining room of the upscale restaurant he followed him to. He had swapped his standard flashy prosthetic for something simpler, he wasn’t meant to be recognizable, had clearly wanted to lie low. He had probably just wanted to enjoy a nice meal and relax, his seat near the balcony afforded him a spectacular view of the city below and it looked like he was savoring each bite of a decadent looking dessert. Sportacus didn’t know how anyone could have missed him, his features softened by the glow of the candle at his table. His pompadour was as expertly styled as ever but his makeup was more subtle, the only thing truly noticeable was the dusting of magenta above his eyes. For once his attire was simple and there were no stripes outlined in gold, just a deep purple sweater that made his pale skin look like porcelain. 

It was easy to slip into the debonair manner that his job demanded. He knew this game, played it well. His tanned features, blue eyes, and soft golden curls made him classically handsome. The cut of his suit showed off his body just right, a hint of the muscles hidden beneath the fabric, chosen just so to make his eyes shine. He knew exactly what he looked like in that restaurant, each pair of eyes that followed him to the villain’s table held lust. Sportacus hated how easy it was to fall into this pattern, hated how it came to him like muscle memory from years of being the agency’s play boy. All it took was a soft smile, politely asking if he might join him, the question holding the hint of something more. Surprise turning to pleasure on the man’s face, his grey eyes warm in the candlelight. 

It was always easy, but for once Sportacus found himself wanting to stay after the job was done. He should get the information the agency wanted and leave but he wanted to slowly reveal the skin beneath that sweater and leave marks that would make the villain remember him. The agent was coaxing information about his latest invention from him when it went wrong. The warmth in those eyes was lost as they turned to steel. Next thing he knew he was against the balcony, ready to be thrown off any minute. He had been practicing acrobatics since his childhood and between that and a few gadgets he would survive the fall. Then he was gone, free fall turning into a flip until quickly discharged safety lines picked up his slack. 

*** 

Unable to get the secret agent out of his mind, Doctor Rotten finished off a pint of ice cream as he wondered what his life had become. Killing agents was easy for him and he had sworn to destroy their agency and everything associated with it. He shouldn’t have been having second thoughts about executing the idiot agent that got himself caught so quickly. And yet, with his finger poised to metaphorically blow him away, he had stopped. The bell came soon enough after to cover his moment of weakness but there was still that feeling in his gut that had given him pause. 

The problem was that this fool of an agent was just too damn _good._ After nearly falling for his, admittedly impressive, charms in Wealthycity the villain had decided to take a closer look at this agent. He was well known in the agency’s circles as a tomcat and with looks like his why not? The truth was that Agent Sportacus was gorgeous, even if his cover name was terrible. But looks weren’t enough to make Doctor Rotten freeze up like he had that evening . In his observations he found out that the man was simply too _good._ He was genuinely helpful just for the sake of it and frankly he was better suited for a circus than the agency. It was clear that this agent wouldn’t have chosen this life for himself, he had probably been snatched up as an orphan like so many others. 

Doctor Rotten had been one of them once. An orphan with no ties to anyone or anything, there would be no one to miss him if he vanished. He was taught his life was expendable from an early age. They saw his mechanical brilliance and cultivated it, he was an inventor, would supply the agents with all sorts of gadgets to make their jobs easier. They were content to pat him on the back and take his inventions until he began to ask questions. Then they called him rotten as they chased him into hiding, defectors weren’t looked kindly on after all. He took it as his name and swore to tear the agency apart, to show them just how _rotten_ he could be. He had earned lofty spots on lists as more than just an agent killer, the only thing saving him from being killed on sight were his inventions. They were valuable and the agency still coveted them. 

His thoughts returned to the agent who had been delivered to him for execution. The villain couldn’t help but think he deserved better than the betrayal he had been given. The man could have helped people in another life, would have made an excellent father and husband. Despite being an optimistic fool, lured in with candy like a child, the agent _did_ deserve better than being left on an uncomfortable table all night while Doctor Rotten had a personal crisis. At that he was unable to sit still, just debating with himself until the sun rose. It was back to the lair for him. 

*** 

He was disgusted. The idiot agent had fallen asleep in the restraints and still managed to look lovely. The soft golden curls had fallen into his face and the villain didn’t need to get started on the stupid mustache. He had been taught that agents were supposed to look plain and blend in. Clearly Sportaloser had missed that lesson. With a sigh and the pull of a lever the machinery and lights whirred back to life. 

The sudden return of light would have been enough to wake Sportacus from his light slumber, but the downright ominous electrical hum of the machines coming back to life was enough to startle him and set his teeth on edge. He was surprised to see the villain back and in such a state. The fluid elegance of his movements was gone, replaced with a nervous energy that made his motions jittery. The agent had never seen any image of the man where he wasn’t perfectly styled, but the villain that moved at the edge of his vision was a mess. His hair had fallen down around his face and his purple jacket looked like it had been slept in, which wasn’t likely based on the dark circles developing beneath his eyes. 

There was a rush, no one had expected the doctor to return in the middle of the night, and then the remote was back in his hand and Sportacus barely had time to struggle before he saw the man falter, his resolve crumbling as he walked away, the threat of death gone as quickly as it had come. 

The villain hated that he was debating with himself, that he couldn’t just kill this idiot agent like the others. He was sure that he had gone soft but pressed the second button anyway. 

The agent flinched at the click of restraints being unlocked and was up and headed towards the exit before he even realized he was still alive. Sportacus barely registered the villain calling his men off, still relying on the instinct to run for his life. He was halfway through the doorway before he could bring himself to a stop and actually think. The man who had killed every agent sent his way had released him. Being sent to Doctor Rotten’s lair was a known death sentence but he was alive and was free to escape. The agent could feel that there was more to this entire situation, that there was more to the doctor’s vendetta, and he needed to know, to take this chance to learn instead of running. 

The villain still had his back turned, but he heard the guards rush in and then stop at his raised hand. He wouldn’t watch the agent leave and he still wasn’t completely sure why he had let him go, but he hoped that the man was smart enough to understand what this meant. He hoped that even though the man stupidly got himself caught he was worth his title as an agent and knew to run and hide. The agency would kill him before he could ever reach their doors. 

The halt of his footsteps drew the villain’s attention and he wondered what that fool was doing, he should have been running until he had vanished off the face of the planet. The doctor turned to see the agent walking back towards him and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. Then they’ve begun to move in a dance neither knew but they seemed to have rehearsed. It felt natural and _good_ and maybe for once the villain had a friend in all of this. Doctor Rotten had never been so glad in his life, thankful that he hadn’t killed the silly, foolish, gorgeous man that matched him step for step. 

*** 

Later he thinks that there’s a reason he was so nearly fooled by Sportacus’ advances, that perhaps they were more earnest than he thought, and that maybe there was a reason he was so receptive. The man gazing fondly at him from across the table lights up the room with his smile and the villain can’t help the pull in his chest. The suits are long gone, replaced by a sweater in a shade of blue that brings out his eyes. Later still he finds himself still not quite believing that the man is seated in the bed beside him, it’s too domestic and he doesn’t understand how someone that good _chose_ to be with him. He resolves to work harder than ever to protect the man besides him, to dismantle the agency that sent him to his death. 

The ex-agent is more than happy to finally settle, to have stopped playing the agency’s game. Each day the man beside him surprises him with something new. Once with the knowledge that doctor isn’t just a villainous addition to his name, he does in fact have a PHD. One night he finds the scars that mar his lover and he resolves to tear the agency apart for causing them this pain, for ever harming the man who greets him each morning like he’s still surprised that he’s alive, that he’s spending that life with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING! The kind words on my first fic give me life and if I haven't replied to your comment it's because i'm a smol anxious bean.
> 
> honestly this took as long to edit and fix as it did to initially write, if anything is still sorta wonky i apologize, i switched tenses in the last act and it made everything weird. I decided to just let it stick around for the epilogue of sorts.
> 
> There were a few things that didn't make it into the text, like Sportacus was an orphan, his parents both worked in a cirque and died in a freak accident. He never realized that Doctor Rotten was watching him but the villain saw him do enough flips for a life time. Also i'm 100% convinced that at some point after this they decide to adopt a kid and it's gonna be Stephanie but then they suddenly have four more and Sportacus is carrying all of them at once.


End file.
